


It's All We Can Take

by ludolefebvre



Category: High School Story (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Dysfunctional Relationships, Enemies to Lovers, Hearst AU, M/M, Male OC - Freeform, Porn With Plot, Violence, Work In Progress, locker room blowjob, welcome to the sin bin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-18 10:12:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5924563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ludolefebvre/pseuds/ludolefebvre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wes feels a bit sorry for betraying Ben, but hey, shit happens. He also sort of hates Ben for the way he barged in here, ready to kick the shit out of him. He also knows that Ben likes boys, and that his boyfriend- some Scandinavian exchange student who'd had someone back home the whole time- dumped him three weeks ago.</p><p>Wes knows things like that. He also knows that he's getting a little bit turned on by the way Ben is pulling at his hair, and that Ben probably wouldn't mind a bit of rebound sex.</p><p>(Originally PWP, now going to have a plot, a very, /very/ angsty plot). Wes x MC. AU where everyone, including the MC, goes to Hearst still.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Wes exclaims in surprise when someone shoves him unexpectedly from behind, grunting in pain when he crashes to the floor of the locker room, elbows first.

“You asshole,” he hears a snarl behind him, “I trusted you.”

He recognizes the voice, and turns around to face Benjamin, captain of the school's hockey team- whom he'd effectively sold up the river to Max about- oh, two hours ago? That hadn't taken long.

Ben is breathing hard, seething, really, fists clenched. His lip is cut and the beginnings of some nasty bruises are forming on his face and wrists. 

“That sounds like a you problem,” Wes states coolly.

“Well, it's about to be a you problem,” Ben growls, hauling Wes off of the floor with some effort. Wes supposes that sports players aren't the best when coming up with pithy comebacks. 

Wes likes to avoid physical confrontation when he can, which is why he deals in trading information, not blows. He sizes Ben up as the other is pushing him up against the wall- Wes has about three inches on him, but Ben's up on Wes by about fifty pounds. He's a stocky fucker, and he's angry- trying to fight him won't work to Wes' advantage. 

There's about a five-second gap where Ben and Wes just stare at each other, breathing hard. In Ben's eyes, there isn't just anger- there's a lot of hurt, humiliation and hatred. He's holding onto Wes by his collar. Finally, he winds back an arm, ready to land a punch. Wes does the only thing he can think of, which is to roughly grab both sides of Ben's face and kiss him hard.

Ben jerks back in surprise, not disgust, Wes can tell, so he continues kissing him. Ben's hand falls to his side, the other still balled up in the front of Wes' hoodie. To Wes' jubilation, Ben starts to kiss back. Wes isn't going to have to patch himself back up today.

Wes feels a bit sorry for betraying Ben, but hey, shit happens. He also sort of hates Ben for the way he barged in here, ready to kick the shit out of him. He also knows that Ben likes boys, and that his boyfriend- some Scandinavian exchange student who'd had someone back home the whole time- dumped him three weeks ago.

Wes knows things like that. He also knows that he's getting a little bit turned on by the way Ben is pulling at his hair, and that Ben probably wouldn't mind a bit of rebound sex.

He reaches around to slip a hand into Ben's back pocket, cupping his ass. Ben nibbles at his lip and Wes likes the way it feels, though the slight tang of copper coming off of Benjamin's cut lip is strange. More than that, it's all too familiar, but Wes puts that out of his head and focuses on groping the other boy's ass. It's a personal opinion of Wes' that there are few things in life nicer than a swimmer's legs, but one of them is a hockey player's butt. It's not often he gets to experience either up close, because frankly, listening to the sports chatter which is necessary for charming an athlete gets tedious. Wes isn't an elitist by any means, but he finds most athletes a tad empty-headed, simple. He supposes Ben isn't different, in that sense, but then Ben takes his hand, drags him into a shower stall (dry, thankfully) and starts kissing his neck. Wes tries to hold in a gasp, wants to tell Ben that he better not leave any goddamn marks on him, but Ben's blunt teeth are already grazing Wes' throat, his hot tongue laving the sensitive skin. Ben's hands trail up Wes' sides, under his shirt, goddamn his fingers are warm and a little calloused, and Wes tilts Ben's head up with his hand and kisses him again. It's rough, Wes licking at Ben's swollen bottom lip, and Ben winces when Wes accidentally presses a thumb into his bruised jaw. He lowers his hands, and goes to reach for Wes' fly. Wes is embarrassed at the fact that he's already hard, but it's okay, he reasons, it's been a long time since he's done this (shouldn't even really be doing this now) and Ben is so responsive and while Wes would never admit it, not in a million years, he loves getting hickeys and he's currently got three blooming along his neck and collarbone.

Ben drops to his knees and in that moment Wes is almost flabbergasted, because frankly this is kind of bizarre and probably wouldn't happen if, one, they both hadn't been laid in a while (he guesses only two months at most on Ben's part, but supposes that's a long time for a jock, a captain no less, in high school), and two, there hadn't been a bit of tension between them before. Wes puts that out of his mind, he'll deal with that later, because Ben's pulling his dick out of his boxers and the feeling of a hand there that isn't his own makes Wes shiver. 

Ben's eyes go wide at the sight of Wes' cock, which makes Wes blush because he doesn't know what Ben's thinking. Did he think Wes would be bigger? Smaller? Wes quickly reminds himself that Ben had probably never had reason to wonder about Wes' dick before, that he's being ridiculous. He gulps when Ben looks up at him, and then groans when Ben has the nerve to hold his gaze as he lazily sucks at the head of Wes' dick, swirling his tongue. This is too intimate, it's making Wes a bit uncomfortable, so he grabs Ben's head and forces him to, one: look down and away from Wes' eyes, and two: choke a bit on Wes' dick.

He didn't mean to be so rough, but he guesses it doesn't matter because Ben seemed to like it. He's hungrily swallowing Wes' cock, and Wes feels the wet heat of the back of Ben's throat, and his tongue pressing against the bottom of his shaft. He chances a look down at Ben's face, now that he's loosened the grip on his hair, and Ben isn't looking at him anymore, thank god- but how focused he is on Wes' cock is making Wes' face turn red with something other than embarrassment. Ben's face is flushed too, and his eyes are half-shut, and his if his lip wasn't swollen before, it sure is now, his mouth stretched wide over Wes' cock. It's probably just the pleasure talking, but Wes thinks he looks kind of- don't say it- this sweaty, bruised-up jock looks kind of beautiful like this. Wes doesn't mean to think that, and the spell is broken when his hips jerk up without warning, forcing Ben to pull off Wes' dick, coughing.

“Sorry,” Wes mumbles, then wants to slap himself, he hasn't apologized to anyone for anything in-

But Ben just gives him a look, takes the hand that he was using to palm himself through his jeans and presses Wes' hip against the wall, and gets back to work.

Soon Wes is panting despite himself, the strokes of Ben's tongue getting sloppier and sloppier. Finally, he swallows all of Wes at once again, and Wes comes with a strangled moan and no warning, both hands in Ben's hair. Ben swallows it all and pulls back with a wet noise, and seeing him sitting there, his lips puffy and his eyes glazed, is too much. Wes recovers from his (strangely mind-blowing for a locker room blowjob) orgasm, stuffs himself back into his jeans and just as Ben pulls out his own hard dick, Wes leaves. His legs are wobbly, knees feeling like jell-o, but he makes them carry him as fast as they can away from what just happened. He hears indignant shouting from Ben, but it doesn't stop him. He tells himself that he should be happy- not only did he avoid a fight, he got a pretty nice fucking blowjob out of it too, but he's not happy. He doesn't know what he's feeling, why his stomach hurts, but he goes home, back to his trailer and bundles himself up in a quilt, stares up at the ceiling and tells himself that it might be a bad idea (it's definitely a bad idea), but he's going to find a way to get that boy into his bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Ben is nearly blind with rage by the time he gets home that day, and he's convinced that Wes Parker is the lowest being on this earth. How dare he betray him to Max? How dare he kiss him? How dare he just fucking run off like that, leaving Ben on the locker room floor, dick aching and face covered in slobber, the taste of Wes still in his mouth?

 

He'd gone and taken a toothbrush from the nurse's office, but he could still taste him at the back of his throat. It made him want to puke.

 

The actual event hadn't been bad, oh no. Ben had especially enjoyed the kissing, the hair-pulling, the groping. He was ashamed by how quickly he'd given into it, despite having wanted- still wanting- to break a few of Wes' appendages, at least. _But shit_ , he thinks, _so sue me for wanting the taste of someone other than Nikolas, that fucker. Even if it had to be Wes Parker._ Ben comes to realize he doesn't regret what he did, but he's still mad as hell and probably going to break Wes' nose tomorrow. That'll teach him to take what he wants and leave.

 

Ben grabs an energy bar from the cupboard, noting that his uncle won't be home for at least an hour and a half. He'd do his homework, but he prefers to do his homework while Alexander is home, just so he has an excuse to not talk to his guardian. They've never quite gotten along, never valued the same things, but ever since Ben realized he liked boys he became terrified of letting it slip to Alex. He doesn't know what his reaction would be, except that it wouldn't be positive. Better to spend as little time with the man as possible.

 

He unwraps the energy bar and takes a bite. Maybe he'll do some training. He's only got a set of dumbbells in his room, but it'll do. Training could be just what he needs to take his mind off of the day, he reasons as he wolfs down the rest of the bar. But when he gets into his room and flops onto his bed to take his socks off, he knows that nothing is going to take his mind off of fourth period in the locker room. He casts a despairing look at his dumbbells, then sighs and shuts his eyes. He hadn't gotten to release after Wes had run. Ben tries to remember everything, how tender the skin on Wes' collarbone had felt under his lips and teeth and tongue, Wes' hand squeezing his ass, how he'd been reduced to a panting mess when Ben showed off his 'skills'. Ben licks his lip, wincing at the sting, and shoves down his jeans. He can practically feel Wes in his mouth when he takes himself in his hand. He makes quick work of beating himself off to the memory of sucking Wes' dick, then takes a quick shower.

 

He is _not_ going to pine over Wes Parker, or his mouth, or his dick- oh god, his dick. _No!_ Ben thinks to himself as he steps back into his boxer shorts. _Fuck. Stop it, you complete and utter tool._

 

He chalks it up to wanting to get his mind off of Nikolas, and picks up his dumbbells, refusing to think about the matter anymore.

 

\--

 

He walks into his first period class- English. Wes isn't there yet, and Ben huffs under his breath. Ms. Chen hands out their copies of Hamlet and the students are put into pairs.

 

“'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, nor customary suits of solemn black.... urgh. What does it even mean?!” Julian groans, letting his head fall to the table with a _thunk_.

 

“What are we supposed to be discussing, again?” Ben asks, resting his chin in his hand.

 

“Um... 'lies and deceit'.”

  
“Then hell if I know,” Ben sighs.

 

The door to the classroom bangs open and the two jocks look over to see Wes slouching over to his seat, a good twenty minutes late. He glances in their direction, and Ben throws a murderous glare his way.

 

“What's the matter?” Julian asks.

 

“It's nothing.”

 

“No, seriously, what'd he do? You look like you want to kick his ass.”

 

Ben takes a deep breath through his nose. “Okay, well, he told Max that I was the one who put the raw eggs in his cleats.”

 

Julian snorts. “That was you? Good job. But shit, what did Max do?”

 

Ben turns to face Julian, rolls his eyes and points to his face. “Um, this.”

 

“Oh... I thought that was A-”

 

“Nope.” Ben looks down at the desk.

 

“So you're going to kick Wes' ass, then? Good luck. You want some help?”

 

“Nah, I'm good. I can handle him.”

 

Julian looks skeptical. “You're, like, five feet tall.”

 

Ben punches his arm. “Five-two, you ass. And so? He's like 130 pounds, soaking wet ... Julian? Hello?” He waves his arm in front of Julian's glazed-over eyes.

 

“Wha? Sorry.”

“What're you looking at?” Ben smirks, and Julian looks down at his copy of Hamlet, his cheeks turning pink.

 

Ben looks over to where Julian's gaze had been and sees the student who'd just transferred to Hearst, the one with the spiky pink hair- his head reminds Ben of a flower- passionately reciting a passage of Hamlet. Ben turns back to Julian, his eyebrows raised.

 

“Really?” he says, and Julian swats at him.

 

Ben feels someone watching him, and he turns around to see Wes peering at him over his book. _What a fucking loser,_ Ben thinks, as he scowls.

 

When the bell rings, Ben catches Wes as he goes to his locker.

 

“Hey, fuckwit,” he growls.

 

“Ooh, that's a fancy word for you,” Wes whistles. Ben hates him, hates him with the passion of the thousand boiling suns that light the hatred roiling in his gut.

 

“Meet me under the stairs outside in ten. I know you have a second-period spare.”

 

“Why should I?” Wes asks, closing his locker. He looks at Ben, practically dripping disdain. “So you can beat me to a pulp? Good luck. Or are you gonna blow me again?”

 

It takes all of Ben's control to not deck him right there in the hallway. He storms off, down the hall, out the door, down the steps, and around the building. He fumes the whole way.

 

And then he waits.

 

As soon as Wes saunters around the corner, Ben launches himself at the other boy. Wes is knocked over, flails, and Ben barely manages to straddle him, locking his hands around Wes' throat. Staring down at him, eyes burning, as he presses down on Wes' windpipe. The longer-haired boy's blue eyes widen as Ben chokes him, and when his face is a dark red and Ben can feel Wes' frantic pulse under his palms, he lets go. Wes coughs roughly, trying to sit up, but Ben reels back and punches him square in the face- one, two, three times.

 

Wes is known, not only at Hearst, but throughout all of the schools in the city, as one of the dirtiest characters in town. So Ben supposes that it's only fair to sink to his level and fight dirty.

 

Regardless, he takes a look down at Wes' bloodied face (he's still coughing, blood running into his mouth) and decides he's had enough. So he wipes the blood off his knuckles and onto Wes' shirt, and climbs off of him. He stands and starts to walk off when something catches his ankle and trips, falling harshly onto rough gravel, nearly busting his chin open on the pavement.

 

“The bigger they are, the harder they fall,” he hears Wes singsong behind him. Ben kicks at his head but misses, and Wes manages to sit up. He twists Ben's ankle, hard, and Ben screams, dragging himself up to a sitting position. He pries Wes' hands off of his ankle and then Wes is on top of him, crashing their lips together in a kiss that's more teeth than anything else. Ben pushes Wes off of him long enough to spit out some of the blood that Wes dripped into his mouth, then pulls him back in. They kiss hungrily, violently, tongues twisting and blood smearing across lips and chins. Wes stands up to drag Ben under the outside steps.

 

“This doesn't need to be on Payton's blog,” he says, wipes his face on the sleeve of his jacket, and continues kissing Ben. He snakes his hands underneath Ben's shirt and rubs the pad of his thumb over a nipple, making him moan into his mouth. He slots one of his legs between Ben's own, feeling the bulge at his crotch, and he grins into the kiss.Ben gasps, holding onto Wes' biceps, as the boy's hands trail down to his waistband. Wes breaks the kiss and nibbles at Ben's ear, and undoes his fly.

 

Ben is panting, eyes blown wide with lust, as Wes takes him into his hand.  
“ _Yes,_ ” he huffs, allowing his head to drop, chin falling to rest on Wes' shoulder. His legs feel weak as Wes' hand grips his cock at the base, giving a few slow pumps before his thumb smears Ben's precome across the head. Ben feels stupid, reduced to a trembling, moaning mess by a simple handjob, but fuck, Wes is _touching him_ and he's painfully hard and it feels so _good._ Wes hisses when Ben bites down on the junction of his neck and shoulder to muffle a groan, but he doesn't stop stroking him. Ben's letting out weak little whimpers, lips still pressed to Wes' skin. His breath tickles Wes' neck. Wes can feel the boy's cock pulsing and twitching in his grip. Ben's hips jut forward whenever Wes' pace slows, until he's practically fucking Wes' hand. When Wes can sense that Ben's close to coming- shoulders tensing up, breath hitching- he takes a step back, letting go of Benjamin as he does. He doesn't want to get come all over his shirt.

 

Ben's leaning against the wall, trying to catch his breath, and Wes starts to turn around. He'll go take care of himself in his car or something, he figures.

 

Ben was evidently not as winded as Wes had hoped, because Wes finds himself being tackled to the ground by him for the third time in two days. He snarls, pushing himself up, and before he can think, Ben's yanking Wes into a sitting position by his hair, and Wes' face is level with Ben's dick. He looks up at Ben, livid.

 

“Not so fast, you shithead,” Ben sneers, refusing to relinquish his grip on Wes' hair. “You thought you were going to leave me hanging again?” Wes groans in reply.

 

“Suck.”

 

The head of Ben's cock is being pushed past Wes' lips, and Wes gags as more of the hard length is shoved in, hitting the back of his throat. He could bite Ben, if he truly wanted to, but he doesn't. So he sucks- lapping at the boy's dick until he stops pushing Wes' face onto it. Ben keeps his hand fisted in Wes' long hair as he pulls Ben's cock back into his mouth, lazily suckling at his slit. Wes keeps his eyes locked onto Ben's, and Ben doesn't look away, his eyes bright and a little wet. Wes feels his cock twitch when he thinks about the lack of control he possesses at the moment, and he closes his eyes, shuddering as he sucks Ben off.

 

It doesn't take long for Ben to come, and Wes pulls off and spits cum onto the ground after he does, wiping his mouth with his hand. He hears giggling, and looks up to see Ben tucking himself back into his pants, apparently finding something rather hilarious.

 

“What?” he barks, still kneeling on the ground.

 

“You're a spitter,” Ben says as he wipes his eyes. “I never would have thought.”

 

Wes rolls his eyes, stands up and starts to walk away.

 

“Where are you going?” Ben calls after him.

 

“I'm sick of your stupid face, and I have to go clean up mine.”

 

“Alright. Have fun with that.”

 

“Oh, I will.”

 

Ben figures they're probably even now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting started on the plot, finally, but still keeping on with the porn. Special guest appearance (guy with pink hair) is my friend's MC. Expect more appearances from him, as well as the rest of the HSS cast.


End file.
